Arthur of Britain: Once Upon a Time
by knittingknots
Summary: A collection of tales of King Arthur and his court inspired by the many legends, myths and books written about them over the centuries.
1. Victory Party

**Victory Party**

Flush from the battle, and wine and the victory party, Arthur strode through the camp and back to his tent. Opening the flap, he was surprised not to see his page Tadhg, but her.

She waited for him on his bed, green eyes hot and sultry, red hair cascading down, draping creamy white shoulders, half cloaking firm white breasts with their rosebud nipples, but her legs were covered by the coverlet of fine scarlet wool draped over his bed.

"You came," he said, dropping his cloak onto a chair. He swayed slightly in his intoxication.

"I promised to help you celebrate," she replied, smiling. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

He unfastened his belt, and lay his sword on the table. "I didn't know, my mysterious lady. Where's my page?"

She stood up, letting the red cloth fall away from her. "I sent him away. I thought you'd prefer some privacy for this."

His mouth went dry as she walked lithely towards him. He collapsed into his chair, sitting on his cloak, and kicked his boots off. "So when will you tell me your name?" he asked.

She bent over him slightly. "After you give me what you promised me," she said, letting her arms wrap around his neck. He stood up, and she pressed her body invitingly against his. Her lips kissed the base of his throat, and then she dragged her tongue up from there to the tip of his chin. "As for me, I always deliver what I promise, my liege."

It was enough. His mouth crushed hers as his hands wrapped into her flame-colored hair. With a moan, he carried her to the bed, and lost himself in her taste, her breasts, and the warm inviting wetness he found as she wrapped her legs around him.

In the morning, he awoke alone. Tucked in his hand was a slip of paper. Sitting up he unfurled it. "My name is Morgause," he read. "Daughter of Ygraine and Gorlois of Cornwall. Thank you for a pleasant evening, brother. As I told you, I always deliver."

Suddenly he grew cold, and his victory seemed very far away.

_A/N This is when Mordred, the son of Arthur, and one of his sisters was conceived. All variations say he didn't know the woman was his sister, although the sister did. Some versions of the legend say it was Morgan Le Faye, but I went with the variation that had Morgause, queen of Lothian and mother of Gawain and wife of King Lot as the woman.)_


	2. Merlin at Broceliande

**Merlin at Broceliande**

I can feel the magic in her as she walks by me singing softly, the old magic, born in women's blood and breath and need, shimmering. Beautiful Nimue, here to care for me in my old age - or so she claims.

By the gods, I am tired, tired of men and their blood games, sword and fire and kingship and dominion. I am tired of the god within me who has used me as a tool since Vortigern uncovered the dragons and sought my blood. Vortigern, Uther, Arthur - each man of them with promise and power, each one planting the seed of their own doom. For each, their own women a curse.

Ah, Arthur, you were the brightest of the bunch. You brought me hope. Maybe yet you can escape the doom your lust has cast. Maybe yet.

She comes back to where I sit, the cup she so carefully prepared in her hand. She thinks I do not know what she has planned, but I do. Her eyes meet mine, triumphant, as I bring the cup to my lips. If only she knew how eager I am to put all this behind me and sleep.

Let the magic begin.

_A/N: Merlin traditionally drops out of the story of Arthur after he is ensnared by Nimue (often spelled Niniane, Nyneue, or Viviane or Nivian) who puts a spell on him that either kills him or traps him in a magic castle or cave, often in the forest of Broceliande._

_Their women a curse - for Vortigern, it was his Saxon wife, for Uther, his passion for Ygraine, wife of one of his dukes, and for Arthur, it was both his bad luck at fathering Mordred on his sister Morgause, and the waywardness of Guinevere_.


	3. Some Rules

**Some Rules**

It was a hot summer's evening, and in the dimly lit room, a small breeze blew in, barely breaking the heat. Lady Ragnelle lay on the bed, her golden hair drifting on the pillow and cascading over her nude shoulder. Small ringlets, dampened with perspiration, framed her forehead, accenting the lazy, warm look in her eyes. She smiled at the man stretched out beside her, as naked and relaxed as she, and ran her fingers lightly over his shoulders and the strong muscles of his arm.

He grabbed her hand lightly, brought it up to his lips, and kissed the palm of her hand, then each fingertip, which made her giggle. Letting her hand fall free, he moved his hand to trace the outline of her breast, then trailed his hand down the length of her waist, across the rise of her hip. She sighed at the sensation.

"Ah, my Lord Gawain," she said as she let her hand trail down across his chest to rest upon his thigh, "You know this is against the rules."

"Eh?" he said, pulling her closer to let his mouth trail across the top of her shoulder, planting small kisses.

"The rules for courtly love," she replied, melting into his embrace. "They say that a man can only find true love in the arms of his lover, not his wife."

His mouth found hers, plundering it eagerly as their tongues danced a slow and sensuous dance, and he moved to top her. "Some rules, wife," he said as he settled between her legs, "are just meant to be broken." And with a thrust of his hips, he demonstrated just what he meant.

_A/N This is bouncing off the 15__th__ century story, __**The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle. **__ In that tale, Gawain is forced to marry an ugly hag, Dame Ragnelle, to save King Arthur's life. On the night of their wedding, the ugly hag suddenly turns into the most beautiful of women, and gives Gawain the choice to have her as a beautiful woman by day, saving his public face, or by night, allowing him the joy of a beautiful wife. He decides to give her the choice, and in doing so, frees her from the enchantment that had bound her. They are said to have had a close and loving relationship. The classic medieval courtly love rules did indeed say that true love could not be found with one's spouse...one had to find it with a lover outside of marriage. _


	4. Lament for Gwalchmai, the Hawk of May

**Lament for Gwalchmai, the Hawk of May**

I see him circling,  
high, high,  
far above me  
this sunny day,  
the hawk in May.

He sees his prey,  
with a flip of a wind  
he dives  
this sunny day,  
the hawk in May.

He was a sight to see,  
when he strode on the field  
that last sunny day,  
My Hawk in May.

His sword  
it was blooded  
his shield held to the last  
on that sad sunny day,  
My Hawk in May.

No easy thing,  
to pull down a hero.  
They gathered around him  
on that sunny day,  
My Hawk in May.

Will we see  
A hero like him again  
standing beneath the sun,  
he fell that sunny day,  
My Hawk in May.

Like a wild hawk  
his spirit took flight  
to soar above me  
that last sunny day,  
My Hawk in May.

Remember me,  
Hero, who sings your song  
lest we forget  
that cold sunny day,  
My Hawk in May.

_A/N: One of the oldest characters in the Arthurian literature is Gwalchmai, which although probably means "Hawk of the Field" is often read as "Hawk of May." He is usually identified with Gawain, nephew of King Arthur_


	5. Contemplating Camelot's Ruin

**Contemplating Camelot's Ruin**

Let it be told again, how there it stood,  
There by the Camel's fabled stream  
There the keep arose, a fortress strong,  
Strong enough to hold a dream  
Fifteen hundred years or more  
Glimmering like a chimera in the telling,  
A place where one man strove to stand tall  
Against the darkness gathering, swelling  
To wipe away the light that was,  
And bravely through that twilight strode the Bear,  
And for a season, he succeeded,  
And planted the dream that lingers there.  
And yet in the end, the darkness called his name,  
Blood fighting blood, love betrayed,  
Are what we remember best of what he wrought,  
Except the lone promise made  
When carried off to Avalon  
For healing beyond time and space  
On that fair Faerie isle,  
To return again - Arthur, lo, quicken your pace!


End file.
